What A Wasted Summer
by lostsoul512
Summary: In my dreams, I am the monster, and he is the angel. I keep screaming for him to save me, but I just don't think my voice is loud enough. Or he's just not listening.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yes, it's true. I really don't have a life anymore. I do not own Lord of the Flies, but if I did I would have written myself into the story, and I would be the princess of Jack's tribe. [Guys, that might be my next fanfic…] A quick note, Simon is still alive in this one, because he told me that he wasn't quite ready to die yet. Don't ask. **

Prologue

Ralph

Here's the thing. I never meant for any of this to happen. I tried so hard to hold onto every little piece of the world I'd once known. The world of reality and sense and understanding. But sometimes no matter how hard you hold on, everything falls apart. And then all you can do is watch the little pieces as they crumble before your eyes.

Jack

I'm trying to convince myself it was all just a dream. Because the monsters in dreams aren't real; they cant hurt people. In my dreams, I am the monster, and he is the angel. I keep screaming for him to save me, but I just don't think my voice is loud enough. Or he's just not listening.

Roger

The funny thing about pain is that sometimes it's the hardest thing to feel. Like pushing knives into veins. Sometimes no matter how deep we try to go, how much blood we spill over the bathroom floor, we still cant feel anything. Nothing but the emptiness that we've become.

Ralph

And, I mean, it's not like I just gave up. I fought so hard to make everything right. It's just, sometimes there is nothing you can do to stop it. It's like a hurricane barreling down upon everything you hold dear. Waves washing up over it all, tearing it all to shreds.

Simon

Innocence is a strange thing. I clung to my innocence, and to that of all those shining faces, with stars in their eyes that were going to burn out and explode before they even knew it was coming. I tried to save them. But sometimes people need to learn how to save themselves, I guess.

Jack 

I remember everything. Every agonizing second on those godforsaken shores. I remember the way we laughed at first, because nothing even mattered. We had each other, and that was enough. But then the nightmares took over, the darkness descended upon us. And suddenly there was nothing else. Just the shadows of a dream long since forgotten.

Roger

I want nothing more than to disappear. I do not belong to this life, this world of sunshine and smiles where happiness is the highest calling. Because I cant even fucking feel it; I cant even imagine how it must taste. All there is to me now is apathy, empty, broken cries. There are screaming voices in my head, and I'm begging, begging them to let me be and just-

_Stop._

**A/N: I know this is a bit random, but if anyone is looking to do a Lord of the Flies collaboration, please let me know. Email me at . If you spam me, I will be angry. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I do not own Lord of the Flies. I do have a new copy of the book on order, however, and when I told the librarian I planned to take sharpies to it, she almost fainted. I'd like to dedicate this to my dear friend Amy, who is the Simon to my Jack, because she keeps reminding me to fight off my beast. **

Jack 

_Beep. Beep. Beep. _

That is the sound of the heart monitor. Steady, slow, predictable. Every so often I feel my breath catch in my throat with a fear that the rhythm might change. But it stabilizes again, and the heartbeat never falters.

His hand in my own is warm, fingers laced together. I wonder if he can feel it, if he can feel anything at all anymore. His chest rises and falls in an even, measured way. For now, it's enough to reassure me. I think about whispering to him, on the off-chance that he might hear me. But no words will come and I realize there is nothing to be said anyway.

I cannot seem to chase away the visions of blood dancing behind my eyes. It dripped from the counter, pooled onto the floor where he was crumbled, falling into himself as incoherent words tumbled from his lips. I blink hard in a vain attempt to shake the thoughts, but when I open my eyes again he is still there in the bed, and I am still praying in the back of my mind to a force I don't even believe exists.

The doctors say he's going to be okay, he's going to wake up. So I guess it's just the waiting now. And that's the worst part of all. Feeling his lifeless hand in my own when not two days ago it was so alive with passion, fingertips drawing over my bare flesh.

The tears are coming now, stinging my eyes and threatening to spill over. I know I cant let them; even now I have to be strong enough for the both of us. Oh, god, why couldn't I have been stronger? I lean over in my seat, wrapping my free arm around myself like maybe I could hold myself together, when I couldn't even stop him from falling apart. He's got the blanket pulled over his frail body now, but I know, _I know_, the scars upon his fragile wrists wont ever fade.

A soft noise behind me alerts me that the doctor has entered the room. I force myself into composure, sitting up a little straighter. I do not let go of his hand. I do not care what anyone has to say. I so clearly couldn't hold onto him when he was in my arms, but I'll be damned if I'll ever let him go again.

"Mr. Merridew," The doctor greets me in that even, professional tone. Fake. Everything about this goddamn world is so fake. I raise my eyes to meet his gaze, but do not speak. "He is going to be just fine. He need a few nights to rest up and get his strength back."

A sigh falls from my lips, but it's lacking the relief that should be there. Because I know him better than this doctor, and I know that he will never be _just fine_. Of course not. How could anyone be _just fine_ after what we went through? He had that fucking beast in his head taunting him, pushing him towards madness. And he found the edge, didn't he? Only I pulled him back. And I don't know if he's going to hate me or love me for that.

"Thank you," I say stiffly, because it's the proper thing to do. The doctor nods but makes no movement towards the door. Great, there's more. I wait by idly for him to go on.

"He will need someone there at all times, Mr. Merridew. Are you up to that task? Having someone else's life in your hands?"

Is it just me, or is there an accusing undertone in his voice? I feel myself getting defensive. If there's one thing I can do, it's take care of those around me. _Then why is he laying there unconscious in that damned bed? _ I will the voices in my head to, please, be quiet. At least for now. "Of course I am," I say, all but sneer. "I'm not- I wont…" And suddenly words are failing me.

The doctor cocks his head to the side with a rather weary expression. One that says he's tired and hungry and missing his family, and he can no longer bring himself to care about the lightly breathing corpse in the bed beside us. "I meant no disrespect, Mr. Merridew. I do not doubt your ability to look after him. However, in the best interest of Mr. Hamilton, I have decided to appoint a live-in psychologist until we are assured he is mentally stable again."

I feel my nails dig into the palm of my free hand, the one that isn't still grasping for a false sense of comfort. He doesn't need a fucking doctor hovering over him. But of course I cant say that, because it just wouldn't be proper. So I nod numbly, and I steal a glance at the slumbering form in the hospital bed, and I feel my heart skip a beat because he's just so beautiful and he doesn't even know it.

"Thank you for your help," I say slowly. The doctor nods a little and then turns to leave. Then I'm alone in the room again, almost alone. I let out a sigh much too dramatic for my own taste, my lips twisted into a dark sort of half smile.

"You'll be okay," I promise him, not particularly caring if he can hear me or not. "Everything is going to be okay."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, guys…It's been one hell of a week. On the plus side, I'm going to dye my hair red tonight, and my mom just gave me permission to get my Kill the Beast tattoo. Also, NaNoWriMo starts tomorrow, so if I have a slower posting rate, I am really sorry. Don't hate me! **

Ralph

The thing about time is that it doesn't really heal, not really. They said the memories would fade away in time, that everything would go back to how it had been _before_. But they didn't know the way the nightmares kept me up, kept me tossing and turning in my bed each night.

It's been ten years since that fateful crash, when everything I'd even believed in came crumbling down before my eyes. Ten years since I stumbled onto shore, into the arms of parents who didn't even know me, not really. They didn't know the things that I'd done there. But I knew, and that was enough.

I'm walking down the streets now, keeping my head down because I cant bear to look into the eyes of the people passing by. I've got a duffle bag slung over my shoulder and a black pea coat wrapped tightly around my lithe frame. Still the wind stings at my face and neck; it's going to be a long, frozen winter.

There is a folded piece of paper in my pocket with an address scrawled onto it. I think about pulling it out, but I know I don't really need to. I have a strange knack for memorizing things. Addresses, names, faces. The way the sand had felt against my bare, scorched skin…

I'm thinking again, and I know I need to stop. Picking up my pace, I turn the corner. And there it is. It's a nice little townhouse, with a garden and all. Nothing too showy, but enough to show that these people aren't just anybody. I find myself smiling a little, though it's grim and it fades away again as I start across the road towards the building.

When I reach the door, it's with trembling fingers that I bring myself to knock. When I blink, I see the fleeting image of the ocean waves, crashing behind my eyes, against the back of my mind. And it hurts, like a stabbing ache in the pit of my heart. But I ignore it as best I can, swallowing hard and shifting my weight as I wait for someone, anyone.

When the door opens, it almost gives me a start, but I manage to compose myself just as the person on the other side is revealed. I should by smiling, I realize, or greeting them or something.

Except I cant. I'm frozen, motionless, standing in the chill of the last of October. And the brightest, most vivid blue eyes are watching me with a perfectly blank expression. They are the most precise shade of blue, those eyes. And then a single word, the most painful word I've ever dared to utter, fall from my lips.

"Jack?"

He cocks his head like he's not quite sure what to make of me. Like he wasn't expecting me or something. And all the while I'm shaking where I stand, because all my fears and demons I've tried so hard to ignore are materializing right before me. I blink hard, hoping to make it all go away. But it doesn't. When I open my eyes again, he's still there.

"Hello," he greets me unsurely. "You must be Dr. Simmons." I nod. My mouth is dry. I cannot breathe. Cannot think. Cannot do anything except stare at him, with his red hair falling all around his angled face. And wonder if there is even the slightest trace in his memory, or if I've become nothing but a ghost to him.

"I-I am," I stutter, finding my voice once again. Somehow I manage to smile even though its hard to breathe and everything is growing a little foggy. I want to reach out to him, just to feel if he's really there. Or see if maybe a touch might be enough to bring back the memories I'm plagued with.

But the man is already turning away from me, gesturing into the house. "Please, doctor, come in." The words are stiff, I get the feeling that I'm not wanted here. And I understand, really. Except it's hard to focus because the file only said I'd be looking after one Mr. Hamilton, and there wasn't anything in there about the devil who is staring at me again.

The house is beautiful, all white walls and high ceilings. It's simply decorated, no photographs to give any personal touched. I slip out of my shoes and stand by awkwardly, watching him run a hand through his red hair. His voice is shaking when he speaks again. "He's in the living room, doctor-"

"Please," I interject. "I'm to be a guest in your home for some time. You can call me Ralph."

Something flickers across his face, some spark of emotion in the depth of his blue eyes. But it's gone before I have the chance to decipher it, and he's smiling again. Extending a hand for me to shake.

"Alright, then," he says as our hands clasp together. I cant help but notice how my breathing falters at the touch. His hand is warm, strong, and there is a voice in the back of my head telling me to run the other way. "Ralph Simmons, I'm Jack Merridew."

I try my best to force a smile, but I feel the world slipping away. Jack Merridew. The boy who has haunted my dreams every night for the last ten years. The boy whose laughter still echoes in my head. The boy who tried to kill-

Everything fades to black.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Yes, I know. I'm a terrible person. I just had to create a perfect world, which was so much harder than it seemed. And NaNoWriMo is consuming my life. I'll try my bestest to get something up sooner..hopefully..sigh. I don't own Lord of the Flies, but I base my entire life on it. I have red, curly hair now XD Dedicated, as always, to Sheridan, my Ralph, my best friend, my lover. She is the fire that guide my way. **

Roger

It's been a week. I cant help but laugh a little, though its icy and hollow. I can still feel the pulsating in my wrists, the dull pain beneath the scars. They stitched me up nicely, but no doctor can save me from the screaming in my head. _Murderer._

The car ride home was the worst. I'd sat slumped in my seat, knees pulled to my chest as I stared out the window like a pouting child. Jack tried to talk a few times, but really, what could he say? I knew he'd been blaming himself, but it wasn't his fault. No, of course not.

When we'd gotten back to the flat, he'd come around to open my door like the proper gentleman he was. In silence we'd gone into the apartment, and as soon as the door had fallen back into place his arms were around me, pulling me against his chest.

"You're so fucking stupid," he had whispered, but his whole body had been trembling and I could have sworn he'd been crying. And even though I had just been in the hospital and I had my wrists fucking sewn together, I had clutched to him with all I had left.

I'm not sure how long we'd stayed like that, crying and simply holding each other. Every so often our lips brushed, and I felt the twinges of passion in the depths of my nothingness.

It's been a week since then. Now, I am sitting on the couch with my chin resting on the palm of my hand. If I move too much I can feel the tug at my cut, still healing. When I blink I can still see the puddles of blood on the floor, coating Jack's arms as he lifts me up like the angel he is.

"He's in the living room, doctor-"

Speaking of my angel, his voice is spilling through the apartment, perfect melodies as it reaches me. My expression stays blank but there is some twisted sense of longing in the pit of my stomach. For sanctuary. And there is a second voice, too, and it's softer than Jack's. The doctor's clearly, except everything about him sounds weak. And weakness is a sin. Even though it isn't.

He says his name is Ralph. Something cringes in my heart. I squeeze my eyes shut to fight them off, those goddamn memories. The way the fire had roared across the island, and the screams, the screams-

A loud thump rips me out of my head. "Shit!" That's Jack again, all frantic and worked up. I'm seeing the world in a sort of haze just then, and even though I know I should get up and see what he's muttering about, I just sit there in my nothingness.

And I'm thinking about the first time, after we'd come home from that fucking nightmare. Five years, though it had felt like five seconds. We were seventeen, and we'd been keeping in touch because we were both so broken but we understood each other. Sometimes when the beast inside gets too strong, you need someone else there to hold your hand. Jack and I met in the city, and from there it was nothing but stolen touches and raw passion. We cried, because the island would never let us go. We smiled, because in spite of it all we had each other, and that had to count for something.

Jack appears in the archway, his body slumped against the doorframe as his vibrant blue eyes move over me. "I believe," he says, and he's smirking like the devil because some things never change, "that your doctor is unconscious."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Soo…I gave up on NaNoWriMo, because it was taking away from time I could've been writing about the LotF boys XD Still don't own anything; William Golding does. Uhm, other than that, I have an exciting new Jack-Ralph oneshot on the way for you guys. And I'm planning my Christmas present to you all. **

Jack

Ralph. Ralph. That _fucking _name.

One second he's standing there shaking my hand, and the next he's colliding with the floor of my foyer.

"Shit," I hiss; my mind is racing and I'm trapped in that place again with his pale eyes begging me for answers. Why did I hate him? Why did I want him dead? When had everything fallen apart? And then Roger had pushed that damned boulder and I knew, I just _knew_, we had given into chaos.

I remember then that the doctor is laying on my floor, and with a frantic flourish I drop down at his side. His chest is rising, falling with shallow breaths. And I cant help but notice the way his blonde hair frames his face, shorter than my own but long enough to fall across his forehead. He looks so serene, lost in the blissful oblivion.

I push myself to my feet and head towards the living room. Roger is there on the couch, staring of into a place so far I couldn't see it if I tried. He looks so fragile, and every part of me wants to go to him, scoop him up against my chest and just hold him. promise him that I'll never let the nightmares come back.

Instead I lean into the frame and grin, showing off my perfectly straight teeth. "I believe that your doctor is unconscious."

Roger's lifeless gray eyes meet my own, and in them I see all the pain in the world. But then he musters a smile, however pathetic it might be. "That's no good," he murmurs. When he speaks, it's like moonlight over a still pool, alluring. I saunter across the room until I can rest my hands upon his thighs, digging my fingertips in ever so slightly. Roger shudders, just a little.

"Who knows when he might come to," I say softly, leaning in until my lips are hovering just above my his.

Roger's eyes gleam deviously. "We really shouldn't, you know."

My gaze flickers to the gash on his wrists, and I have to blink before I realize how close I was to losing him. Before the knot in my chest can bring me to tears, I press my lips against his. The kiss is everything soft and delicate, and for a moment I forget about everything else. Roger fists his hands into my hair, pulling at the strands.

I feel a moan rise up from within him as I just barely break the kiss. "When do we ever do what we should?" I tease him. Roger laughs, almost, and I feel my heartbeat quicken. "Don't you ever leave me," I whisper, eyes suddenly wide as I tighten my grip on him. "Hear me? Don't ever leave."

Roger pulls me down to him so that he might nestle up against my chest, trembling fingers gripping at the fabric of my shirt. "I promise," he says, muffled because I'm on top of him. "I wont leave you, Jack."

His words ring in my head as I hold him, and even though it's been ten years I feel like a child again, crouching in a cave with a storm just outside. And he's the only one on my side.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Wow, I am so sorry it took me so long to post this. Really, I am. If only you all knew what my life was like right now. I'd give anything to go live on an island with a certain group of boys…I don't own anything related to Lord of the Flies, sadly, except a copy of the book filled with underlines. Also, I thought Simon was still going to be alive but he decided there was no purpose for him here. **

Ralph

The first thing I see it light, bright enough to blind. It's spilling across the floor from parted shades, filling the room with a natural sort of glow. I rub the exhaustion out of my eyes, but I can still feel it aching in all of my body.

Everything is sort of a blur at first, and I find a sense of serenity in the nothing. But then it all comes back, crashing into me like waves, like ocean waves on the most beautiful beach. For a minute or two, it's really hard to breathe, so I squeeze my eyes shut as tightly as I can and pretend none of it is real.

"I think he's still out."

A steady voice reaches my ears from the doorway. It's quiet, peaceful, and soft. Definitely not Jack's. It must be Roger, I realize. Jack and Roger, my worst nightmare watching me as I fake sleep.

"Should we check his breathing or something?" Roger presses on. I fight off the shudder threatening to give me away.

"No," Jack murmurs. "Why don't you go make some coffee or something?" He's being very gentle; I cant help but be sort of surprised by that. Because it's Jack, and I just cant imagine him caring about anyone at all.

There is a brief moment of silence. I close my eyes tighter, not entire sure I want to know what they're doing. "Love you," Roger whispers, like it's the most casual thing in the world, and Jack laughs a little, and then the door closes softly.

I almost open my eyes, thinking I'm alone again. I'm not quite sure if I really, truly want to be alone or not, but I think it might be nicer than any sort of company these two might provide. But then..Jack had stared right into my eyes, and he hadn't shown any signs of, well, anything. I'm usually pretty good at reading people, and I think it's safe to say that Jack had no recollection of me whatsoever.

Anyway, I'm about to open my eyes when I feel the weight shift on the bed beside me. Inevitably, my entire body tenses up, because in the confines of my mind I'll always think in terms of predator and prey. Hunter and hunted. Right now, I'm the vulnerable one.

"I know you're awake."

The teasing words are so close I can practically feel them being breathed against my ear. Jack's voice has taken on that playful, amused sound, that sweet, poisonous melody. I jump up so fast my vision is dotted with little blurs of light, up and away from that beast.

Jack chuckles darkly at my reaction. He's laying casually atop the guest bed, and from where I'm teetering on the edge, I watch him with some twisted combination of fear and adoration. Because some things just never change.

Jack sits up a little, too. "So. I must admit I'm almost surprised that you're still here. You struck me as the type to let guilt take the best of you."

I do my best to ignore the sting. I have nothing to be guilty about. Nothing at all. Jack smirks; obviously something about my silence amuses him. I struggle to find something, anything to say, just to stop those damn memories from crawling back inside and tearing me apart. But the fact of the matter is that all my worst fears are grinning me right in my face, less that two feet away.

"You and Roger, huh?" I finally manage to get out. Jack nods slowly, contemplating, as I disregard the unexplainable twisting in the pit of my stomach.

"For about five years, yeah," he replies. It's strange, because this sort of look comes into his eyes when he says this, almost like a raw innocence. But Jack Merridew cant feel anything like that; he just cant. I'm trying to rationalize all this, so I almost don't notice he's still talking. "He's been the only person here for me, I guess. He…he understands things, Things I've done. He doesn't even question."

For the briefest moment, Jack is the vulnerable one, but then suddenly his mask is back, and he's returned to being nonchalant and arrogant. "What about you?" He asks. "Aren't you a little young to be a doctor?"

I drop my gaze to my lap, where my hands are clasped nervously. "School was about all I was good at," I explain quietly. "I finished boarding school by fifteen and had my masters done by nineteen. I didn't sleep, didn't go out. I…I found that when I focused on school, it was easier to forget. Or at least distract myself."

Jack cocks his head to the side. "Looks like you've got it all figured out." To that, I say nothing, because nothing can be further from the truth. Jack must take the hint, because when I look back to his angular face his lips are smiling again. Not devious or dangerous. Just a smile. "Well, for what it's worth, I never forgot about you," he tells me.

I'm not sure if that's supposed to comfort me or put me on edge, so I just nod a little. Jack is still smiling as he slides off the bed. "You don't have to say anything, Ralph. I know you didn't forget me either." And with that, he leaves me there, dazed and confused, but with some strange feeling of hope I couldn't quite explain.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Oh gosh, I've really been neglecting this story. I had no inspiration for it, but at work today I decided that I am absolutely determined to finish it. So, I'm really sorry I kept everyone waiting, but I'm back with a new fire that could match Jack's hair. I don't own Lord of the Flies, tragically. Dedicated to Sheridan, my little Ralph. **

Roger

I take my time filling the coffee pot with water, sticking in the filter, measuring out the grounds. Jack is upstairs with that pretty blonde doctor, and I'm here all alone, without anyone watching me. I guess Jack must really trust that I'm not going to try anything again, leaving me on my own like this.

With the coffee brewing, I am left to lean up against the counter, do my best not to close my eyes, not to let those memories seep in. I try to focus on anything else. Thoughts of Jack, maybe, laying in bed next to me, one arm strewn over my chest, soft breaths tickling the bare skin of my neck. The little things I live for. The things I know I would have missed, even if I'd have been too dead to realize it.

I might be standing there for n hour, or maybe only a few short minutes. Either way, I haven't moved at all when I hear the quiet sound of footsteps on the stairs. A moment later, Jack appears in the doorway of the kitchen, wringing his hands ever so slightly. "Hey," I say quietly. Jack's eyes flicker around the room nervously, because even still we're always, always on edge.

"Hey," he replies casually, crossing the room until his body is mere inches away from my own. Jack reaches out to put his hands on my hips, presses his waist into my own. His lips are smiling, just a little, but there is something in the depths of those endless blue eyes I just cant place. Regret, maybe, and fear. "How are you feeling?"

I know what he's really asking, even if he doesn't actually say it. And I know he's worried about me, even though he tries to act like he's so damn tough. "I'm good," I tell him, and I might even mean it. As an after thought, I add, "Better now that you're here."

Jack grins that familiar devil grin, thumbs linked in the belt loops of my pants. He opens his mouth as if he might say something more, but in the end he only tilts his head and closes the distance between our lips. The kiss is slow, soft, everything that Jack is not. A small reminder that he's here, that he's not going anywhere. I moan a little, raise my hands to fist them into his hair.

He's just brought a hand up to cup the side of my face when we hear a small cough from somewhere behind us. Ripping himself away from me, Jack spins around to find Ralph, hovering beneath the archway, looking a little disoriented and a lot uncomfortable. "I didn't mean to interrupt," he mumbles quietly

"You didn't," Jack says quickly, and I'm just left staring at the floor, because he did, actually, but I don't say a thing. "There's coffee, doctor-"

"I asked you to call me Ralph."

I think I see Jack cringe, just a little, at the sound of that. But he composes himself with ease, smoothing out the places his shirt has gotten a little wrinkled. Outside the sun is resting lazily in the cloudy October sky, preparing for its dive beneath the horizon. "Right," Jack replies evenly. "Ralph."

An uncomfortable silence passes over us all, leaving us to our own thoughts for a second or two. I notice the doctor _Ralph_, push his hair back away from his face before turning his pale gaze upon me. "I, uh, was hoping we might talk a little," he speaks slowly. "Get to know each other."

In spite of myself, I glance over at Jack, but he's standing perfectly still, perfectly controlled. My lifeless gray eyes return to the doctor. "Of course," I tell him stiffly. He nods, just so, and disappears into the living room.

Instead of following like I know he expects me to, I retreat to the coffee pot and fix myself a cup. I'm well aware of Jack's eyes upon me, taking in my every move. "Roger," he calls out softly to me. A voice that sounds so delicate, so _not_ Jack. "I need you to be completely honest with him. He's here to help you, okay?"

I grip the handle of the coffee mug a little harder. "I know."

In a moment, Jack is upon me, arms wrapped around my waist. His head was resting against my back, and with every breath he takes I feel my own body shudder. "I just don't want to lose you," he murmurs. "I need you here with me."

I cant help but smile a little at that. Setting down my glass, I turn around in his arms so that we're facing again. "I need you too, Jack."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I told you all I was determined! I wrote this today during my Sociology lecture, because I just didn't feel like tuning it. I do not own Lord of the Flies, and cannot think of anything clever to say about that.

Jack

This is just perfect.

Night has settled over us now, the black velvet sky dotted with golden lights. It must be near two am, and for once everything is still. I'm sitting on the front step, hugging my knees to my chest, a lit cigarette dangling from my fingers.

Yes, this is just perfect. It's been ten years, and I'm still haunted every day, _every fucking second_. The screams and the flames, the smoke suffocating as I ran until I couldnt even breathe. Searching for Ralph in the depths of the jungle, because that was my island and he was mine whether he knew it or not.

With hands trembling slightly from the cold, I bring the cigarette to my lips and take a drag, smoke tendrils dancing away into the night sky. They burn at the back of my throat, scratch at my lungs. It's enough to distract me from the disaster that had been my day, from the oversized bed where Roger's sleeping form awaits me, and Ralph's guest room down the hall.

"You shouldn't smoke, you know."

My body jerking a little, I glance back over my shoulder. And there he is, Ralph, standing in the doorway, blonde hair all tousled around his angled face. He's wearing a plain white tee that stretches across his chest and dark blue plaid pajamas. I swallow hard. "There's a lot of things I shouldn't do," I reply, eyes locked with his own.

Ralph takes a hesitant step towards me, then stops. I know he's waiting for my reaction. But I can only bring myself to take another drag of my cigarette, so in the end the blonde closes the distance and plops down right beside me. My head is spinning at how close he is to me, and I hate it, I hate it, I need to make it stop.

"I thought about you," Ralph says softly. Staring up at the blanket of stars flickering above us. They're supposed to remind us that we're never really alone, but I sure as hell feel alone right now. "Every day, Jack. I wondered where you were. What you were doing. If you'd…changed."

Flicking what is left of my cigarette out into the driveway, I angle my head just enough to peer at him from the corner of my eye. "And?"

A sigh escapes Ralph's lips. "I don't know. This still feels so surreal to me." In spite of myself I nod in agreement before pushing myself up to my feet. After a moment's hesitation, I extend a hand to Ralph. A silent symbol of the desire to forget. Fire sparks in all the places our fingers link.

When he's standing before me, Ralph runs his eyes up and down my body, before his pale gaze dares to meet my own. "Jack," he whispers, and there is something in the way he says it that I just cant take.

"I should go," I say, before he can get out another word. "I don't want Roger to be alone." Ralph nods like he understands, like he knows how it feels to care about someone the way I care for Roger. Even if he doesn't. Because once upon a time I was the boy all alone on an island full of people who hated me, feared me. And now Ralph was alone, and I had Roger, and I didn't need a damn thing besides him. I push past him towards the door.

"You really love him, don't you?" Ralph murmurs softly behind me.

This time I do not look back at him. "More than anything."

My fingers are lingering on the door handle, and I'm sure I'm about to get away from him, away from the pain of a thousand memories better left untouched. Only Ralph isnt having it. "Are you going to tell him who I am?" He asked again. Uncertain, and perhaps even a little frightened. Like he knows exactly how Roger would react.

The sigh his words elicit is painful. "I don't think I can," I admit. I wouldn't even know where to start.

Ralph doesn't say any more on the subject, or anything else at all, and so I push open the door and disappear into the house, leaving him standing in the late October chill.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thanks to all the people who have been favoriting and reviewing my stories. Not just this one, but also Break Till I Shatter, my other current project. You shall be greatly rewarded with my Valentine's Day story! I promise! Uhm, all the usuals: I don't own Lord of the Flies, but as of today I do own the dvd! It's too bad you all cant see the drawing of Roger I did in the notebook where I wrote this chappie….

Ralph

It's funny how different people have ways of hiding their pain. Some, like Jack, turn all of their hurt into anger, lashing out at anyone who tries to get inside. People like me just force a smile, go on with lying that everything is going to be okay.

Roger stares down t me from across the table with empty eyes. One hand rests nervously on the table top, the other wrapped loosely around a coffee mug. I don't think he's taken a single sip, but the steam rises and disappears up into the air around him.

"I'd like to talk about your childhood today," I begin nervously. Because this is Roger, who killed Piggy, who laughed maniacally as he tortured those twins. And even though he didn't have any idea who I was, I still remembered.

Roger adverts his gaze away from me. I catch myself wondering, offhandedly, where Jack might be. If he's off at some job, making the money to keep the house, to pay for his lover's heaping medical bills. Or if being a Merridew is enough. "There's nothing to talk about," he says begrudgingly.

I sigh. Of course Roger has to be difficult. "Most suicide attempts are triggered by events from our youth," I explain, trying to keep my patience with him. "Are you sure you don't have any prominent memories? Death of a loved one, perhaps?"

This should not be so difficult for me. I should be the epitome of collected, instead of forcing my hands not to tremble. It's just so hard to pretend like I don't know, like I wasn't there to see the gleam in his eyes as he freed that boulder that came down on Piggy.

With closed eyes, Roger takes a hesitant sip of his coffee. Sits in silence while I wait. "There was an incident," he says at last. "But I don't…I mean, I don't talk about it anymore."

Because I am a doctor and this is what we do, I scribble a few meaningless words onto my paper pad before me. I already know where this is going to go. _There was a crash_, I thought, hands balling into tight fists. Knuckles white. _And we were all alone. Only kids. He was in charge. _

A shaky breath passes through my lips, one Roger doesn't seem to notice. "I think you'll feel a lot better if you open up," I say, and I do mean it. I know how it feels to hold everything inside. All that fear and regret and longing for something not quite understood. I know. I've felt it too.

When Roger brings himself to meet my gaze, those gray eyes are wide and brimmed with tears. "We were so young," he chokes out. "And…and we didn't know any better." His body is starting to shake, just a little. "There were probably twenty, thirty of us. When the plane when down everything was dark and I remember that I was scared. But my father had told me that fear was for the weak. I couldn't be afraid of anything."

I must admit, it's hard to see hi like this. His arms are wrapped around himself now, huddled into his chair. He's got new bandages around his wrists. And I have to wonder if Jack did that, if he was gentle and delicate and all the things Jack was not.

"Roger," I say softly, surprised at my own tone of voice. "Roger, what were you afraid of?"

For but a moment, he's a child again, standing on a beach in confusion, lost and helpless. I can see in his eyes that he's back there, back on that damned island.

"Being alone," he murmurs at last. "I don't want to be alone."

Fighting off a slight frown, I cock my head just so. "But you're not alone. You have Jack. I don't think I've ever seen a love like yours."

Roger has to smile at that, though it is wistful. Edged with sorrow. "Jack is my entire world."

"Then why did you try to kill yourself?" I ask bluntly.

Roger takes a sip from his cup once more, slamming it onto the table just a little harder than necessary. "Because," he tells me. "Jack cant belong to anyone."


	10. Chapter 10

Roger

I'm shaking when the doctor dismisses me, shaking when I hurry up the stairs to my bathroom. The man in the mirror looks lost, hopeless. Lifeless gray eyes and those damned slashes across each wrist.

Behind closed eyes, I can see it all like it was yesterday, the crystalline waves against the sand. And Jack, face smeared with dirt and dust and blood. And Ralph, all golden and perfect, everyone's admiration. I can see his eyes, so pale and green and helpless. Begging. He was always begging.

It's hard to explain exactly how thoughts connect. Maybe I'll just blame it on all this therapy I've been doing, making me overly aware of my conscious. But one second I'm having all these flashbacks of the island, like Simon's little body being dragged out to sea, and the next I'm travelling this whole chain of thoughts. The way Jack had smiled at me, so shyly, the first night we met up in London. All those nights he held me. Coming home from the hospital, silent and scared. The doctor passing out the day he arrived. Sleeping in his bed in the guest room, with his golden hair all strewn across the pillow. And those eyes, sitting at the kitchen table watching me. All the fear in those eyes as I brought up the island.

_Please, call me Ralph. _

It's getting hard to breathe, and in an instant I'm on the floor, clutching my head in my hands. I'm pretty sure I'm crying.

It's Ralph, right here in my house. The boy I tried to kill, who Jack tried to kill. Oh, God. Some rational part of my brain is screaming that this is illogical; Ralph cant hurt me. But I remember all too well the way Jack would obsess over him, every damn second. How infatuated he had been with him, always, always. And I had stood by, always, always, loving him all the while because he was Jack and I just couldn't help myself.

My lips have parted but all the oxygen has been reaped from my lungs. All those feelings of neglect, of not being good enough. I am alone, all alone-

Everything goes black.

XXX

I have a dream I am drowning, struggling for the surface, gasping for breath. But I keep slipping under and there's no one there to rescue me. Just when I think I'll give into the darkness, a voice calls out my name. It's low and far away but I can hear it, Roger, wake up, and then hands are grabbing me, shaking me.

With a great jolt my eyes snap open. Frenzied and panicked, I take in the bathroom around me. Jack is at my side, hands holding me, running all down my arms. Brushing my hair away from my face. I don't say anything, just whimper and collapse into him.

For a long time we stay like that, with Jack crushing me against his chest, rubbing little circled over my back. "It's okay." He whispers, breathes into my ear and kisses me on the cheek. "I'm here, Roger. It's okay."

This is just like the last time, I think, except there's no blood and no one's dying and it's actually not okay. "No," I reply hoarsely. Then I'm pushing him away, crawling until my back is pressed up against the wall. Jack stares after me with those bright blue eyes, wide and full of confusion. "No, it's not okay."

"Roger-" Jack reaches out towards me but I turn my head away, shielding my face with my black hair. "Okay. What's wrong?"

"Don't play stupid, Jack," I scowl at my lover. "You…you knew. Didn't you? You've been protecting him."

I can see a thousand emotions in those devil eyes. He's looking anywhere but at me, and yet there's enough tension in the room to choke on. "How did you find out?" He asks after a while.

I stare back at him like I've never seen him before in my life. Because this is Jack, who I love more than anything, and he's been lying to me. "Just realized I already knew," I tell him. Jack looks as if he might speak again, but I don't give him the chance. "I cant believe you. I cant believe you would lie to me for Ralph."

Already I'm rising to my feet, and Jack is doing the same, grabbing at me as I try to push past him. "Roger, please," he begs. I can hear the hysteria in his voice, but I'm not giving in. "Roger, I didn't want to lie to you. Please, just talk to me."

Ripping my arm from his grasp, I turn on him with a feral growl. "Why?" I demand. I'm screaming, and I wonder if Ralph can hear me. "Why are you so obsessed with him, Jack? It's been ten fucking years! Cant you just accept that one thing in the world doesn't belong to you?"

Jack opens and closes his mouth several times, but no words come out. I take a few shaky breaths, waiting for an answer it doesn't seem I'm going to get. "Roger," he tries at last, but it's weak. His conviction is gone.

"Just save it," I grumble, shaking my head a little. "I'm leaving."

And so I do. I leave him standing there, dazed and alone, and I don't stop and he doesn't come after me.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Eep, things are getting real out of hand now XD Well, kind of, anyway. Thankyou to my lovely fans; you give me strength! I'm not sure how much longer this story is actually going to be. I guess it's up to the boys and how much they tell me to write. I swear, I'm not the one in control here. They possess me and do what they want. I don't own LotF, but it does own me.

Jack

I watch as Roger disappears through the doorway, leaving me standing there alone. Suddenly it's so cold. And I'm panicking, because Roger means more to me than I could ever express. I know I messed up, as usual, and have no idea what to do to fix it. A shudder runs through me as the front door slams.

It doesn't take long for Ralph to find his way into the bathroom. When he does, I have my arms all wrapped around myself, like maybe I can hold myself together. He watches me for a few moments, unsure of what to say. I don't have the heart to tell him that nothing, nothing he says will matter. I don't care if he's the best damn doctor in London. No words can stop the breaking of my heart.

"Jack," he says after a long while. "I don't mean to pry, but what-"

"He left," I say flatly. Speaking the words confirms the reality of it all. Roger, my Roger, is out there all on his own, and he's angry and he's got this depression beast eating him up inside, and I cant fucking go to him because I don't know where he's gone.

I try to keep myself calm, but it's like trying to keep water dry. "Jack, we'll find him," Ralph says slowly. I cant believe him, standing here, ten years later. Like none of it ever happened, like none of it even matters. But the truth is that it does. People don't forget, not ever, not really. We cant just move on from something like that. We cant just pretend that we didn't hate each other once upon a time.

"Fuck you," I hiss. Ralph actually looks taken aback by the harsh words. He might even flinch a little. "Fuck you, thinking you can just reappear in my life."

Ralph narrows his pale green eyes at me. "You think I wanted this?" He cries desperately. "Do you honestly think I ever wanted to see you again? You've haunted me for the past ten years of my life, Jack Merridew."

My name is like a curse upon his lips. Ralph has his hands balled into little fists at his sides, trembling just so. I want nothing more than to hate him, hate him for all that he is and all that I am not. I'm not even strong enough to hold my lover together, let alone myself. Everything is falling apart, breaking into pieces right before my eyes.

And then Ralph speaks again, utters those three fucking words that cant ever be taken back. "I loved you, you know," he says quietly, very nearly inaudible. I blink a few times, wondering if maybe I've passed out and this is all just a terrible, terrible nightmare. But, no, Ralph is still standing there when I open my eyes, looking at the tiled floor that is probably still flecked with Roger's blood.

"On the island," he goes on. "How could I not? I envied everything about you. But I couldn't ever have you, not like I wanted, and I hated you for that. When we left, I thought of you constantly. Wondering if you ever thought of me. There were nights when I missed you so much I thought I might die. Sometimes I imagined you showing up at my front door, telling me how sorry you were, and that you had loved me too."

I cant believe what I'm hearing. I'm frozen in place, motionless, speechless. Ralph's hair has fallen in his face a little, so he reaches up to push it away. Because old habits die hard.

"But you never did. Then, when I came here and saw you, I thought that maybe…But, Jack. I know you love Roger. And I care for you far too much to ever come between that. So the way I see it, you can either stand here and scream at me, or you can go out and find him."

For a long while, I can only stare at him where he stands. Nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. And then, without warning, I step towards him, closing the distance between us. And I pull him into a hug. Ralph tenses up in my arms, but soon he's relaxed, and he slides his own arms around my waist.

When I pull away, we're both smiling, at least a little. "Thank you," I say with sincerity. Ralph just nods a little as I turn to leave. Everything seems a little foggy but I know one thing has never seemed clearer. And that is that in the end, everything is going to be okay. It just has to be.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Okay, this chappie may have gotten a little trippier than I intended… If you like Donnie Darko, you might appreciate this. At least, I hope…anyway, don't hate me! This is very nearly the end of the story. Oh, thanks to all the amazing people who read my Valentine's Day story! **

Ralph

It must be hours that I stay, perfectly motionless, on the couch. Jack has been out searching for Roger, and I'm just waiting. Alone where he left me.

Left me. I had spilled my heart out to him, told him my deepest of secrets, and he'd stared at me like I was a stranger. Because I was. Because it had been ten years but it feels like ten thousand, and everything is different, and it's crazy of me to think that Jack would have wanted anything to do with me.

And, really, I have no reason to be upset. I've got my career, and Jack's got this beautiful love with Roger. If anyone deserves to be happy, it's Jack, who's been suffering in agony for all these years, who's got this look in his eyes saying everything is falling apart. Somehow, Roger holds him together, and I could never take that away from him. I love him, yes, but I love him enough to let him go.

It's with that final thought that I trudge up the stairs, down the hall that has almost become familiar. Past Jack and Roger's room, where a ghost lingers, beckoning to me. It's the haunting of a feeling that I just cant shake, one that says we would have been perfect. Me and Jack, we would have lasted forever.

It doesn't take long to put my belongings into the suitcase. The bed's already made and soon my bags are packed as well. And, no, I don't care if it's too damn late or pitch black. I'm leaving, because I never should have been here to begin with. I never should have stayed.

And really, Jack is so much better off without me. I catch myself thinking of that little boy he'd once been, running, screaming out against a world that he hated. A world that didn't want him back anyway. How, in those days, it had been so hard to imagine Jack loving anything. Now he has Roger and I'm the one sitting alone on the beach, crying softly as the ocean sings to me. Only I'm nowhere near the ocean, and there is no melody in these hallowed halls.

In seconds I'm back downstairs and out the door. The night is still, not even the slightest breeze to ruffle my blonde hair.

"You don't really want to go."

I'm fairly convinced I almost jump out of my skin at the sound of the delicate voice. Whirling around, I can just see a figure on Jack's front porch. Only it's dark and he's concealed by the shadows, so I cant tell who it is. My feet take a hesitant step forward, but as I reach out, the shadow giggles and disappears.

Wonderful, I think, clutching my bag tighter. I'm also losing my mind. Really fantastic. Blinking harder than necessary, I turn back to the sidewalk and start away.

"You cant just give up, Ralph."

And there it is again. I spin in the direction of the voice, and as I do my suitcase tumbles from my hand. I very nearly fall to the ground as I take in the unbelievable sight before me. Because there, standing in the glow of the streetlight, is Simon.

"No," I blurt out, moving sharply away from the reach of the light. Simon stands perfectly still, watching my every move. He's still the same little boy from the island, and it's impossible. "No, you're not here."

"Of course I am, Ralph." It's Simon's voice I'm hearing, but the little boy before me hasn't made a move. Not even a slight twitching of the lips. "I am here because you let me be here. Your memories, and Jack's and Roger's."

I cant help myself from stumbling back a little. But the edge of the pool of light follows me until it's engulfed me, and Simon is right before my eyes. "I've been keeping you all safe," he tells me, tone completely void of emotions. "At first it was little things. Avoiding car accidents. Making sure you didn't get robbed. All the while I was looking for a way to reunite you guys."

This is all becoming very confusing. Simon had always been completely batty, but this…I just don't know. All this time he's been looking out for us? But…we killed him. Why would he want to keep us safe? I part my lips, a million questions threatening to spill out, but Simon raises a hand to silence me. For the first time I notice the little blue flower pinned into his hair.

"Then, Roger tried to kill himself, and I knew it was my chance to bring you all back together," he goes on to explain. I catch myself glancing nervously down the street, wondering if anyone's noticed us. But we're all alone and for a second I'm pretty sure the world has stopped turning.

"I…I don't understand," I murmur, disbelief streaking through my words. "Simon-"

"Jack is going to die, Ralph," Simon states calmly. Like it's nothing. And in the hollow cavity of my chest, my heart skips a beat. Or two or three. "As of right-" he glances at his wrist, but there's no watch there-"now, he'll be finding Roger by the river. Roger's slit his wrists again, and Jack is going to find his bloodied body. Overwhelmed with grief and sorrow, he'll pry the razor from his lover's grasp and cut his throat until he chokes on his own blood."

I cant hear this anymore. Already my hands have flown up to cover my ears, because I can just see it all playing out behind closed eyes. And, oh, God, it hurts too much. I cant bear the thought of Jack's lifeless body resting there, in eternal slumber with his lover at his side. I just cant.

"Stop!" I shout. "Please, Simon, stop."

The boy before me cocks his head just a little, like maybe he wasn't expecting my reaction. Only I'm barely noticing anything at all, because I cant stop imagining Jack's body there… "Tell me what to do, Simon. Please. I have to save him. I love him. I have to save him."

Simon bites his bottom lips just a little. "Ralph," he whispers. For the first time I hear some trace of feeling in his voice, that angelic little voice. Like somewhere in there, he's still just that helpless boy being torn to shreds. "You are the reason this is all happening. The only way to save Jack is…you cant ever leave that island."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Well, guys, this is the last chapter. Thanks so much to everyone who stuck with me, since I was pretty unpredictable with updating. I hope you all continue to read my work, especially my current story, Break Till I Shatter. I love everyone in this fandom, every single person who shares my obsession. Sigh..I promised myself I wouldn't cry! Insert usual disclaimer here. **

Roger

When I wake, there is sunlight and this steady sort of breeze. A small smile toys with my lips as I stretch, listening to the sound of leaves rustling in the trees around me.

Instead of opening my eyes as the sun might desire me to do, I only roll over, use my forearm to shield my face. Laying on my side, I feel the warmth of a body pressed against me, all bare chest rising and falling with these tiny little breaths. At long last, my eyes snap open, and there's Jack, and his eyes are open too. Vacant. For but a moment our eyes meet, and something stirs down deep inside of me.

"I've just had the strangest dream," I whisper. But I don't think Jack is listening, so I decide to keep the memories to myself. At least for now. Even as the dream is beginning to slip from my grasp, I remember how Jack's fingertips had felt grazing my skin. And I don't want to let that go, not yet.

The redhead sits up, rubbing some of the sleep from his eyes. His slender body is marked with scrapes and bruises, streaks of his war paint still clinging to his skin. "Me too," he tells me, and at first I don't realize that he's talking about the dream. "We were…I mean, you and-"

His jumbled words are cut off by the sound of an ear piercing scream. In an instant Jack's on his feet, darting out of the shelter we share. And I'm right behind him, following him like always.

"What's going on?" Jack demands, blue eyes surveying the crowd of boys, taking in everything. Beyond them is the ocean, the endless ocean that keeps us trapped here on this godforsaken island. Everyone is looking rather sullen, maybe even shocked. And I cant deny the way my heart is beating like a drum inside the cavity of my chest. Jack's hands are fists at his side, his side at my side as we stare out at these lost and hopeless faces. "Well?"

"Oh, Jack." It's Simon who steps forward, a sudden sob breaking free from his chest. He wraps himself around Jack's body, startling the older boy. I watch this all without really being there, thinking all the while that this is Simon and in my dream Simon was dead, and even though I'm heartless I still have a heart.

Jack glances over at me, pats Simon gently on the head. The look in his eyes says he doesn't quite know what to do, but Jack always knows what to do. "Simon," he says at last. "Please tell me what's wrong."

But by now Simon's crying too much to get words out. I can see Jack is trying not to lose his temper, and so can the others, and suddenly all the boys are parting, stepping aside. Jack is staring straight ahead, but my gray eyes are fixed only on him. Watching as his eyes go wide, watching his mouth fall open. And then he's screaming, screaming but I cant hear anything. Jack rushes forward and collapses into the sand on his knees. He's crying out words I don't hear at all, and a few hot tears sting my eyes. But, no, I will not cry. I will not cry, not even as Jack pulls a limp body into his arms. He's brushing blonde hair away, crying right in front of everyone.

But not me. not even as the knife falls from his motionless hand. Not even as the sunlight shines down upon Ralph's lifeless face.

XXX

For a long time, I sit alone on the beach, tossing a rock back and forth in my hands. I still cant shake the image of Ralph, bled dry from his wrists, or my terrible dream from the night before. What Simon had told him, that he couldn't leave the island. Not if wanted Jack to live. But he didn't have to-

"Hey."

I look up at Jack as he approaches, kicking up a little sand as he drops down at my side.

"Hi," I whisper quietly "You okay?"

Jack only shrugs. I glance at the place where his hands are clasped in his lap, scrubbed clean from the stains of Ralph's blood. "I just…I mean…he's dead."

A delicate sigh falls from my chapped lips. This is all so screwed up. I reach out to place a gentle hand on Jack's forearm. It says more than my mouth ever will. Jack looks at me, all the pains of the world in those damn blue eyes. Because I realize he knows. He knows that it was all for him. Ralph died to save him.

Suddenly Jack's fingers are linked with my own, warm and unexpected. I feel my breath catch in my throat, coming out staggered, uneven. He's still looking out at the ocean, the waves coming onto the sand, and yet I've never felt quite this close. "I could have saved us all," he tells me quietly. "I could have…"

I turn my body, angling it towards him, until my knees are pressed against his thigh. Until there's less than six inches between us. And then, because of my dream, our dream I think, or just because I don't want to ever lose him, I lean in and press my lips to the corner of his mouth.

Jack tenses up for a moment, but then he turns his head slightly. Our lips collide in a slow, nervous kiss. When he pulls away, a thousand unspoken words pass between us. Out across the water, the sun is beginning to set, another day giving way to another night.

In spite of everything, Jack lets out a hollow laugh. "What a wasted summer," he says softly. I nod my agreement, nuzzling into his shoulder. Jack ruffles my dark hair a little.

"I guess this makes you chief," I remind him, trying to lighten the mood. Jack's grim expression sends me back into silence. It's almost comfortable, except for the stray thoughts of Ralph. We stay there long after the sun has set, holding each other and humming little tunes as the stars break free across the sky. Wasting the summer away. Reminding ourselves that, in the end, it just has to be okay.

END

**A/N: Well, I hope you liked it! I was thinking about an epilogue…but I dunno. Opinion? **


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